Chapter 3 Racetrack

Was she really going to marry a man who wouldn't even bother to push away the women that clung to him like decorations?

Sofia's stomach tightened painfully.

Naven turned his head toward her with slow restraint. His gray eyes locked onto hers, cold and unreadable. There was no flicker of surprise, no hint of irritation, not even the smallest trace of interest.

He simply stared.

Then he turned his gaze back to the racetrack, as if she had been nothing more than a passing interruption.

The woman at his side seemed to notice the change at once. She followed Naven's line of sight and then looked at Sofia with sharp curiosity. A mocking smile curled across her lips.

Sofia clenched her jaw and drew a steady breath. She stepped forward until she was close enough to be heard.

"Mr. Fort," she called out firmly, holding his gaze without wavering.

He did not answer right away. Instead, he turned fully toward her and studied her in silence. His eyes moved slowly, as though he were weighing her worth.

As though he were picking her apart without saying a word.

"Sofia, the savior," he said at last, his voice low and measured. "I expected you to hesitate longer."

"My mind is already made up," she replied, though her heartbeat thundered against her ribs.

The woman in the red dress let out a quiet laugh.

"Is this another one of your admirers, Naven? Aren't you going to introduce me?"

Naven didn't spare her a glance.

"You may go now, Isabelle."

The woman's mocking smile vanished in an instant. Sofia saw the controlled anger flicker across Naven's face, yet Isabelle did not dare add another word. She simply turned on her heel and walked away, leaving behind nothing but the sharp trace of expensive perfume.

Naven faced Sofia and moved toward her at an unhurried pace until only a small stretch of space remained between them. She forced herself not to look away, even as the silence between them felt heavy enough to press against her chest.

"I assume you already understand what I am willing to give," he replied flatly.

"I do," she responded. "And I came here because I am ready to agree to it."

The slightest lift of his eyebrow was the only reaction he gave.

"Do you really grasp what it means to become my wife, Sofia? I am not a gentle man. And I have never cared about making anyone happy."

"I am not asking for affection," she replied, her voice calm but unshaken. "I only want Catalina safe. And I will not make the mistake of letting myself get too close to you."

"Some mistakes are paid for dearly," Naven responded, and there was something sharp beneath the quiet tone, something unreadable and dangerous.

"A noble woman," he murmured softly. "A rare thing."

Then he turned away and walked back toward the railing, looking down at the track below as if she were no longer standing there.

"Then it is decided. Tomorrow, we will sign everything. A prenuptial agreement with no room for interpretation. Every condition will be mine. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she answered immediately, without the smallest trace of doubt.

While his eyes stayed on the track, even though he seemed miles away from it, Sofia understood the truth settling deep in her bones. She had just tied herself to the most unreadable and dangerous man she had ever encountered. Someone who might even hold more power than Dante Moretti, his brother-in-law.

And whatever awaited her next would never be as simple as ink on paper.

A shift in the atmosphere swept across the terrace as another presence arrived. It was the kind of entrance no one could ignore. The man was of average height, his skin browned from the Marbella sun, and several guards followed close enough to be noticed without making a scene. A crisp white suit clung to him like a statement of arrogance, matched perfectly by the smug curve of his smile. Hanging from his arm was a blond woman with dramatic curves, balancing in a tight dress and towering heels, gripping him as though letting go might send her crashing to the ground.

"Naven Fort!" the newcomer called out brightly, brimming with confidence. "So this is where you have been hiding. Madrid suits you. You have always been impossible to track down." The admiration in his voice was almost embarrassing, as though he would have bowed at Naven's feet if given the chance.

Naven offered nothing in return. No greeting. No expression. Only the faintest nod, so subtle it was easy to miss. His attention never left the horses below as they thundered through their final stretch.

The man did not seem discouraged. He stepped closer with easy comfort, and then his gaze slid toward Sofia.

"Well now," he said with exaggerated excitement. "And who is this?" He grinned wider. "I did not realize you were bringing pretty company around these days, Naven. Is she your newest prize?"

Sofia's eyes widened as heat rushed into her face. Her cheeks burned, not from flattery, but from humiliation. The way he spoke about her made her feel reduced to something bought and displayed.

"A paid companion, right?" he continued smoothly, his smile sharp and shameless. "Come on, sweetheart. Tell me your name."

Sofia's green eyes dropped to the floor, her expression tightening with quiet embarrassment. Standing among people who treated money like a game and power like a weapon made her feel exposed, as if she did not have enough skin to shield herself. She wanted to answer sharply, but her voice refused to come.

None of this belonged to her.

She did not belong here either.

"I think you have the wrong idea, sir," she muttered at last, her tone soft, her gaze still turned away.

"The wrong idea?" the businessman asked, lifting his brows as though genuinely amused. "Well, that is unexpected. And honestly, even more intriguing."

The blond woman at his side let out a sharp, unpleasant laugh.

"Don't mind Naven, sweetheart," he murmured, leaning closer as if sharing a secret. "He gets bored easily. He likes anything new."

Sofia shifted back, uncertain of where to place herself. Her discomfort stood in stark contrast to the other woman's shameless confidence. She wanted to speak up, to insist they were mistaken, to tell them she was not something bought for entertainment or status. Yet the truth felt too complicated to spill out without tearing open parts of herself she could not bear to touch.

And Naven... still remained silent.

He was only a step away. Close enough that she could feel his presence, yet he offered nothing. He did not correct the assumption. He did not stop the man's gaze. He did not give her even the smallest defense.

Sofia glanced at him from the corner of her eye. His face looked carved from stone, flawless and cold, untouched by anything around him.

Did he truly not care what they thought of her? Or was this indifference something he took satisfaction in?

"I was thinking of traveling to Geneva next week, Naven," the businessman continued casually, pouring himself a drink as though he owned the terrace. His voice stayed light, almost playful. "Maybe you could pass along this young lady's contact information... if you are finished with her."

Sofia went completely still.

For a heartbeat, everything around them felt suspended, as though even the noise of the racetrack had faded. She knew it had been meant as a joke. Yet it was the kind that bruised more than it amused, sharp with humiliation.

"She is not something you can purchase. And she is not the kind of woman you are imagining," Naven said quietly. His voice did not rise, but the steadiness in it carried a warning that sliced straight through the air.

The businessman hesitated, blinking as discomfort crept across his face. Hearing Naven speak at all was rare. Hearing him correct someone in front of others was almost unheard of. He forced a careless shrug.

"Oh, please. You cannot expect me to believe that. She is obviously an escort. Everyone can see it."

"My humor does not come in that form," Naven replied, icy and precise.

A thick silence settled over them. The blond woman beside the businessman suddenly became fascinated with her manicure, acting as though she were not listening. Sofia could still feel heat crawling up her cheeks. Even with Naven's brief intervention, the sting of the moment refused to disappear.

The man let out an uneasy laugh and lifted his glass.

"Fine, fine. No need to sour the evening. To horses... and unexpected things." Without waiting for anyone to respond, he drained the drink and stepped away, retreating with his guards and his companion, dragging both embarrassment and arrogance behind him.

Sofia stayed silent, her eyes fixed somewhere far beyond the track, as though the open sky might offer her a breath she could not find here.

"Is it always this cruel?" she asked quietly, still trying to understand a world she had never stepped into before, a world her father had kept far away from her.

Naven did not answer right away. Instead, he walked to the railing and stopped beside her, close enough that his presence felt unavoidable. The view was beautiful, but Sofia could not bring herself to care.

"Out here, people think they can claim whatever they want," he said at last.

"That includes me."

His gaze shifted toward her. There was no warmth in it, no regret either. He studied her with the calm focus of someone weighing something valuable, something he did not fully explain even to himself.

"No one will approach you unless I allow it," he said evenly. "No one."

"That does not make any of this feel better," she answered, surprised by her own boldness.

For a moment, something flickered across his face. The faintest trace of amusement touched his mouth before it disappeared.

"You should go rest. I will come to you later. Or if you would rather wait for me in the suite where you were so fearless, you can do that as well."

Sofia gave a small nod, unable to summon anything else. She had reached her limit for one night.

By the time Sofia reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped outside, the last traces of dusk had disappeared. Darkness settled over Madrid slowly, like a weight dropping across the streets. Sitting in the back of the car on the way to the hotel, her thoughts refused to quiet. She kept seeing Naven's stare, hearing the emptiness in his silence, and feeling the reality of what she had just accepted tightening around her.

Without a signature or paper, she had still handed something away.

The small car carried her through the city until it finally stopped in front of the hotel.

*

A faint click echoed through the suite as the door shut behind Sofia. The gentle sweetness of her perfume lingered in the air, a softness that felt almost out of place in a room belonging to Naven Fort. Silence pressed down over everything, thick and unmoving.

For several long moments, he did not move. His gaze stayed fixed on the empty space where she had vanished, his steel colored eyes giving nothing away. No expression shifted across his face. No feeling surfaced.

And yet, beneath that cold stillness, something subtle had changed. A quiet fracture. A stir he would never allow himself to name.